


It started with a pizza...

by lola381pce



Series: Imagine Clint Coulson Prompts [23]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, American Sign Language, Burglar Clint Barton, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Mom Coulson's Banana Loaf, Pizza, Student Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: Anonymous prompt for Imagine ClintCoulson: Imagine Phil as a broke college student, and Clint as the burglar who breaks in to rob him, but changes his mind when he sees that there is LITERALLY nothing to steal. Instead, he starts bringing Phil furniture and electronics that he "found." Phil never asks where he really got them. Then they fall in love yay!





	It started with a pizza...

**Author's Note:**

> We are always accepting new prompts at our tumblr account, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.
> 
> ***
> 
> Clint is deaf in the story and Phil signs so I’ve tried to include ASL in some of the conversations between Phil and Clint but I’m not Deaf, deaf or hard of hearing nor am I fluent in ASL. I don’t know anyone who signs so I’ve been researching with Lifeprint run by Dr Bill Vickers, which is a brilliant website. Any mistakes are mine and nothing to do with either the website content or Dr Bill. If I've messed up, please let me know, and I'll do my best to fix it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It had been a pretty good night for Clint. Two apartments and three hundred bucks in his pocket after a visit to his fence. He knew the stuff he sold him was worth at least three times that, maybe more, but he wasn’t greedy. Or stupid. He was an opportunist and if someone else was dumb enough to leave a window open and their shit lying around well, who was he to pass it up. 

And speaking of open windows…

He was near the student campus just a few blocks from where he lived when he spotted it. Clint may have been a firm believer in researching your mark and never crapping where you eat but it was dark inside the apartment and he figured there might be a few electronics he could squirrel away till his next meet with Danny Nine-fingers. He decided to risk it.

Avoiding the fire escape (too noisy… and way too easy, heh) Clint scaled the building using drain pipes and cracks in the stonework. He had no fear of heights having learned his climbing skills when he was a kid hanging out with riggers and acrobats at Carson’s. They taught him to be nimble and safe. Learning to become a decent thief from Trickshot and the Swordsman with Barney, however, had been way more dangerous. And painful. He still had a few scars to prove it. Barney though had taken to it like a duck to water.

In no time at all, he was on the window ledge sliding through the narrow gap dropping silently to the floor. There was enough of a glow from the streetlights to see… absolutely  _nothing_  worth stealing. In fact, if it wasn’t for a few photos on a makeshift desk and a chest of drawers that had seen better days, he’d have said the place was empty.  

With a sigh and an eye roll of epic proportions, he spotted the security bar for the door (bit of a moot point with the open window) and after dropping it home, made a more detailed survey of the room. It didn’t take long and honestly, was hardly worth the effort. A tiny kitchen area took up the far end, a neatly made bed sat in the corner by the window (actually just a mattress on the floor), the desk doubling as a table made from wooden pallets and boards in the middle of the room with a broken chair, and finally the chest of drawers.

Although it was neat and tidy, the drab paintwork was streaked and grimy, and the giant rug covering the wooden floorboards had more than its fair share of dodgy stains.

Man, this place was shittier than his and that was saying something. Crime of crimes though, there was no T.V., no laptop, no e-reader and… was that an old-style turntable? And vinyl records? Seriously, what the fuck!

He knew he should turn round and disappear but he figured there had to be something to make the climb worthwhile. He padded quietly over to the tiny fridge in the equally tiny kitchen. Jackpot! Leftover pizza, some chocolate, and a can of soda. Not much but it would save him stopping for food on the way home.

As he ate the pizza, tossing bits of dry crust in the open box with deadly accuracy, he rummaged through the two cupboards. Pretty much bare except for ramen and crackers and a few cans of soup. On the drainer by the sink lay a single bowl, a cracked plate and a chipped mug plus some mismatched cutlery. Wow! This guy obviously didn’t have wild dinner parties.

Next, he searched the drawers finding clothing along with underwear and socks as might be expected. The stuff was clean and neatly folded but it was well-worn and there was nothing of value hidden in the layers of jeans and t-shirts. Jeez! The guy had  _nothing_! LITERALLY nothing.

Chomping on the last slice of pizza, Clint looked at the books and papers on the desk. A history major at the university. Yawn. Apparently, he was penniless and boring as fuck.

Oh, hello though! Was this him?

Clint picked up one of the photos on the desk. It was a guy about his age in a green polo shirt with a cute grin and one arm around a woman maybe in her forties, his mom going by the similar broad smile and dimples. The fingers of his other hand were brushing floppy hair from his eyes. His very gorgeous eyes - a kind of blue or maybe grey - that seemed unbelievably bright in his freckled sun-kissed face.

He wasn’t much taller than the woman and looked kinda skinny but he had the wide shoulders of a swimmer and the beginnings of a broad chest that he’d probably grow into in a few years. Clint flipped the frame over. There was no date on the back, perhaps he’d grown into it already.

He wasn’t Clint’s usual type - far from it in fact - but there was something that came through in the photo that he found appealing. Maybe it was the way he held his mom close with genuine affection or the way his eyes sparkled with mischief or the misshapen nose that made him look tougher than his body suggested. He didn’t know what it was but he wouldn’t mind finding out.

Putting the picture back exactly where he found it, the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from beneath the history books caught his eye. Curiosity made him look. 

> _Hi Mom_
> 
> _Thanks for the food parcel, and yes, the cookies made it here in one piece. None left now :( but the guys and I really appreciated them. Call me selfish but I kept the banana loaf just for me. Know you’ll be disappointed in me but some things are just too good to share :)_
> 
> _The course is going really well although there are a few things in Mr Fury’s class that don’t seem to add up. You remember him? The guy with the eyepatch that came to high school a couple of years back? Anyway, I asked him about the stuff that was bothering me and he just glared at me (as usual) then told me to write a 5000-word essay on why I thought I knew more about the missions of the Howling Commandos than he did. I found out a lot about Peggy Carter and how she started the S.S.R. which was pretty awesome. You’d have liked her, Mom. Didn’t take any sh, eh, nonsense from anyone. Moving on… He gave me a grunt after he read it which is like an A- in his class so I guess I must have made a pretty decent job of it._
> 
> _Oh, hey! Good news! Mr Morgan at the repair shop is letting me change out the gearbox on the Charger we got in last week. Can’t wait! Apparently, I’m not as much of an… let’s say he said “idiot”… as he first thought so I guess spending all that time under Lola’s hood with Dad really paid off!_
> 
> _Sorry this is just a short letter, Mom. I’m heading out to the grocery store for my shift. And before you think it, no I’m not working too hard, and yes I have enough money. I’m can pay the rent on a really nice apartment near the campus this year, and because I get employee discount at the store I can even send some to my dear, sweet mom for the ingredients of another batch of banana loaf… hint, hint!_
> 
> _Love you and see you at the holidays._
> 
> _Phil x_

Clint looked up from the letter and around the room. This was the opposite of a “really nice apartment”. It was a shithole. This guy, Phil, apparently worked two jobs to pay rent to a landlord who was probably ripping him off leaving him with barely enough scrape by. Fuck! It looked like the guy lived off noodles and crackers so he could send money home to his Mom.

His gaze dropped guiltily to the half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand and his stomach churned. And  _he_  was eating the last of his pizza. Probably something he’d saved up for. Like a treat. He crammed it into his mouth almost choking himself and chewed it furiously. Yeah, well. Maybe he shouldn’t have left his window open then. Putting temptation in his way.

 ~~Angry at the guy~~ … Angry at himself for feeling remorse (“ _Never feel sorry for your mark, dumbass. That’s how you get caught - and I ain’t bailin’ your scrawny butt outta jail”_ ), Clint lifted the history book he found the letter under and put it back, remembering to leave a corner uncovered. The pizza he could do nothing about but the can of soda and chocolate bar he put back in the fridge. With a final look round and remembering to remove the bar on the door, he left the way he came as silently as he’d entered.

***

Putting his key in the lock and giving it the customary jiggle and twist before it turned fully with a loud snick, Phil yawned wide enough to crack his jaw. He was bone-weary. It was Friday night and it had been a long week. Classes through the day then four-hour shifts at the grocery store with a couple of hours study time most nights usually saw him crawling into bed around 12.30 or one am. And this week had seen an extra essay for the mysterious Nick Fury which had taken him longer to write than he expected.

He was really enjoying Fury’s tutorials this semester but damn he was a demon taskmaster. No room for slackers in his class. The essay he’d been assigned had been fascinating to research, and he was now convinced the random involvement of the S.S.R. he’d pointed out to Fury really wasn’t that random. The downside was, it gave him even more questions than he currently had answers for and while he may have the curiosity, he seriously didn’t have the time to go digging any deeper right now. Still, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to start planning his dissertation sooner rather than later and there was no doubt the Strategic Scientific Reserve would make an awesome topic. He yawned again.

Tonight though, no studying. He was going to finish the leftover pizza he’d been thinking about longingly for the last two hours, then he was going to crash.

As he opened the door and stepped inside, the hair on the back of his neck and arms rose up. He froze where he stood, his heart pounding, the blood roaring in his ears. He scanned the room for signs of an intruder and although he couldn’t see anything, he knew someone had been here. He couldn’t explain how he just… knew.

With nowhere for anyone to hide, Phil slowly walked into the room closing the door and locking it behind him, securing it with the bar. He dropped his book bag beside the chest of drawers and looked around again. It didn’t take long but when his eyes reached the open window he spotted a few flakes of dried paint on the carpet that he was certain hadn’t been there earlier.

Fuck! It may not be much but this was where he lived. His home. And as much he was both grateful and sad he had nothing worth stealing, someone had broken in, violating his privacy. Granted it wouldn’t have taken much for them to get inside. He’d been trying since day one to get the damn window to close and for Bainbridge to fix it. God knows it was freezing in the winter and too hot in the summer, but he’d been unsuccessful on both counts. The guy was a dick and knew Phil couldn’t afford to live anywhere else so he didn’t bother his ass.

So fuck the landlord too.

Pissed there was nothing he could do about it, the cops wouldn’t be interested and Bainbridge even less so, he headed for the fridge with a weary sigh before spotting the pizza box on the countertop. What was that doing out? He flipped open the lid and cursed a stream when he saw it contained only a few half-chewed crusts. So that’s what they’d taken. They couldn’t find anything else, so some shithead of a thief took his last few slices of pizza. And left the fucking crusts! Well, excuse the hell outta him for not being able to afford the filled kind. He could barely gather enough money for a normal pizza once a month and that was supposed to last him at least a couple of days.

Much to his horror and disgust, Phil’s eyes began to well up. He swallowed back a sob and wiped his nose with the heel of his hand. It wasn’t really the loss of his pizza that upset him although that was pretty crap. He was just so damned tired his priorities were screwed up. Between college, the grocery store and his weekends at the repair shop, plus his study time, he was hardly getting enough sleep and barely making ends meet. And for what? For some asshole could break into his home, eat his pizza and leave the crusts?

Angrily, he swept the box off the counter and into the bin.

No longer hungry, Phil stripped out of his clothes and tumbled into bed and a restless sleep completely unaware of the events that would soon unfold.

 

*** *** ***

So, it started with a pizza…

Clint couldn’t settle when he got back to his apartment. His mind kept wandering back to the miserable excuse for a room he’d just left. And what he’d done to the guy who lived there. And he hated himself for it.

After a long time of tossing and turning, he finally came to a decision. He pushed himself out of bed to make a phone call before getting dressed and heading out again. Forty-five minutes later, give or take, he was back in bed with a huge grin on his face. Barney, Trickshot and the Swordsman could all go fuck themselves.

For the remainder of that night, Clint had the best sleep he’d had in years.

***

A few hours into his fitful sleep, Phil woke with a start. He lay still, his ears straining to pick up the slightest sound in the room but other than the noise of cars passing by in the street below accompanied by the occasional yelled conversation and sirens wailing in the distance, he heard nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe he was just extra alert after being broken into.

Then his sense of smell kicked in. Oh  _hell_  no! With disbelief, he lay there for a moment then rolled over and punched his pillow a few times. That’s great. Just amazing. Pizza. He could smell fucking pizza. Some asshole was eating pepperoni pizza somewhere in the building with their window open just so the smell would waft into his room.

That’s an unhealthy case of paranoia you have there, Phil Coulson, he chided himself while punching his pillow again. He pulled it over his head in the vain hope the smell would be less invasive. And, of course, that’s when his stomach got the message setting off a deep growl in his belly which served to remind him he hadn’t eaten since he got home. Suddenly he was ravenous.

With a sigh, he gave in and fell out of bed. A handful of crackers it was then. Should keep him going until the morning. But instead of heading for the kitchen cupboard where his crackers lived, he was drawn towards the window and when he looked out, a pizza box stared back at him from the fire escape, mockingly.

It was too much. Thoroughly pissed, he squeezed through the gap and picked it up with the intention of lobbing it over the railing, however, he paused when he realised it wasn’t empty. Not only that, a sticky note had been attached to the lid which read, 

> _Sorry i ate your pizza_

Taken completely by surprise, Phil stared at it for a moment. Huh! That was… unexpected. Cautiously, wondering if he was being pranked, he opened the lid and the rich aroma of pepperoni and melted cheese assaulted his nostrils. His mouth watered and his stomach growled with impatience.

He looked over the fire escape railing into the alley below and seeing no-one cast his gaze upwards. Again there didn’t appear to be anyone around. He couldn’t imagine the guys in his class going to this extreme to pull a joke on him, which would be kinda difficult anyway as he took great pains to ensure they didn’t know where he lived. So that left the burglar who apparently had a conscience.

He couldn’t eat it though. Could he? His dad would say if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a hunter in disguise (make of that what you will). His mom would say no matter how bad someone was there was always good in them somewhere (she has a kind and trusting soul). His stomach told him in no uncertain terms don’t look a gift pepperoni pizza in the mouth and eat the fucking thing already.

Against his better judgement, Phil climbed back in the window and leaning his ass against the sill, took a bite of the still warm pizza. It was so, so good! He moaned like a porn star and scarfed three of the slices in record time before falling back into bed where slept soundly until his alarm went off later that morning.

 

*** *** ***

So yeah, it started with a pizza and continued with a twenty-piece dinner set a few days later. And another note. 

> _hope u enjoyed the pizza :) found these. think u need em more n i do_

“Found” wasn’t just stretching the truth, it was a bald-faced lie. In actual fact, Clint had strolled into a department store, lifted the box of dishes, casually tagged on to someone overloaded with boxes and bags of their own, chatted and laughed with them as he helped them with their purchases, and confidently walked out arousing the suspicion of no-one including the store detective who opened the door for them and wished them a nice day.

***

Phil frowned at the box on the countertop. An apology pizza was one thing. A set of brand new, and he was fairly certain, dubiously acquired dishes was another. Or was he being unfair basing his assumption on a failed break in? Failed only because he had nothing to steal (excluding the pizza). Either way, he could not in good conscience accept them.

Instinctively knowing this wouldn’t be the burglar’s last visit, although not understanding how he knew, he tore a sheet of paper from his pad and wrote a note back.

> _Thanks for the pizza and yeah, it was really good. Better than the leftovers that were “liberated” from the fridge. I can’t accept the dishes though. Not sure where you found them but perhaps you could return them. Someone might be missing them - Phil_

Liberated was perhaps a bit dorky but he didn’t want to say “stole” outright. Afterall, the burglar had replaced what was left of his pizza with a new and much better one than he could usually afford to buy. He also maintained the illusion that the dishes were “found”. Pointing out the obvious would gain nothing. For either of them.

He would try to fix the window tonight after work.

*** 

A few nights later, the dishes were still there and he had two new folding (and remarkably comfortable) bistro chairs at his desk/table. It’s amazing what you can walk away with from a restaurant with sidewalk dining when you tie an apron around your waist and wipe down a table with a damp cloth and an air of confidence.

> _Hi Phil. dam strate with the pizza. best there is. no can do with the dishes tho. finders keepers yeh? found the chairs 2 ;) U cood ask me 2 return em i gess but then i mite fall from ur fire escape n ud feel bad if that happened. at leest i think u wood - Hawkeye_

Phil smiled despite his misgivings. It appeared Hawkeye had a conscience (sort of) and a sense of humour. Although he couldn’t spell worth a shit.

He’d try to fix the window before he left for college tomorrow.

*** 

> _Hi Hawkeye. No, I wouldn’t want you to fall from the fire escape. Probably have to complete some sort of report… I hate reports :( But no more finding things. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble either - Phil_

Clint grinned at the note Phil had left. And then frowned at the laptop he’d “liberated” from another mark. He’d had to look the word up. It was a nice way of saying stolen but he figured Phil had already forgiven him by writing back.

*** 

Phil read the note again and shook his head trying not to smile.

> _ok Phil no moar finding things after this. i thot u mite wunt it for college stuf. U no how 2 use computers rite? or do u need me to teech u? haha. so, whens next pizza nite? must b soon yeh? - Hawkeye :)_

A second reading didn’t help. It only encouraged the smile that slowly spread across his face. He really didn’t want to support Hawkeye’s career in burglary. The note thing was kinda fun but him leaving items he’d ‘found’ - and they both knew it was a euphemism for stolen - was wrong. To Phil at least. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Thinking hard, the tip of his tongue pressed against his top lip while he wrote his reply. He didn’t know the guy but for some reason, he didn’t want to hurt him either.

He’d definitely fix the window at the weekend.

***

> _Seriously, Hawkeye. I can’t accept the laptop. It’s really nice and all but it’s too much. I have to ask you to take it home with you. Okay? As for pizza night, it’s a week away but here’s some of my Mom’s banana loaf to keep you from getting too hungry. Hope you like it - Phil :)_

Clint looked at the package beneath the note. He recalled Phil’s words from the letter to his Mom. “ _Call me selfish but I kept the banana loaf just for me. Know you’ll be disappointed in me but some things are just too good to share._ ”  Well, unless his understanding of the word was all wrong, Phil was doing just that. Sharing his Mom’s banana loaf with him. With him. A no good, fuck-up of a thief.

He reached out and touched his fingers to the grease-proof paper with reverence. Phil obviously knew he was stealing the shit but didn’t call him on it or ask him where he got it. Just politely told him to take it away. Then decided to share something that obviously meant a lot to him when didn’t even do that with his friends.

He felt confused. And maybe just a little bit in love.

 

*** *** ***

> _ive taken the laptop but im leavin this tablet. didnt find it. it was mine an now its urs. it has sum books n comics n stuf on it you can reed when u giv ur brain a brake from thinkin abowt smart shit. or pizza. Haha. but u can stil surf the net.  An thnx for the banana loaf. It was fuckin amaz_

Clint felt a presence behind him and whirled round to see Phil standing in the doorway. His first thought was balls, busted! His second was wow, he really had grown into that chest of his.

They stared at each other. Neither moving. Neither breathing. Hearts racing.

“Fuck! You scared the shit outta me,” Clint said eventually. He grinned nervously, his eyes darting towards the window a couple of times. Writing notes and leaving knocked off gear was one thing but coming face-to-face with Phil was something else entirely.

He was very careful when it came to burglary making sure his mark was out and not likely to return when he was busy… well, doing what burglars do. He had to be; he didn’t work with a lookout. And he was so certain of Phil’s routine he hadn’t put the security bar in place this time. That was careless.

He needed to get the fuck outta dodge before Phil decided to call the cops.

Phil relaxed his grip on the handle and walked into the room closing the door gently behind him while trying to look as non-threatening as possible. If this was his personal burglar he was never going to fix that damn window. Hawkeye was nothing like he’d have guessed but holy shit, he was hot with broad shoulders, a pretty serious set of arms, and blond hair sticking up in messy, bed-head spikes. And those eyes!

“I could say the same thing. Although I’d have thought the noise the key makes in the lock would have tipped you off. You didn’t hear me?” he asked, dropping his book bag in its customary place by the chest of drawers. He was glad his voice sounded reasonably normal at least.

Clint caught most of what Phil said but when he’d looked away to drop the bag he missed the last part. He shrugged and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Phil noticed the hearing aid in one of Clint’s ears. Oh. He didn’t expect that.

“Your name Hawkeye?” he asked out loud, his eyebrows lowered in a question, his words accompanied by hesitant signing and fingerspelling in ASL.

Clint raised his own eyebrows in surprise. He pointed at Phil then formed both hands into “1” handshapes drawing a couple of large circles in the air with the tip of each index finger in an alternating circular movement, asking <<You sign?>>

Phil grinned and nodded. <I know little sign>

Although still hesitant, he kept the conversation going in ASL as did Clint. <Slow, please. Learn last year. Gap in classes. Good way fill time>

<<Most people>> Clint placed his hands in Y shapes and shook them <<play around>>

Pointing to himself, Phil shook his head and signed <Not most people> He smiled shyly for a moment giving Clint enough time to think, ‘No, you’re not. You’re fucking gorgeous for a start.’

Phil pointed at Clint then made two five handshapes with palms up curling them into claws asking <You want…> before making the movement of a manual coffee grinder; his bottom hand staying still while the top one turned the crank <…coffee?>

Also thinking most people would have called the cops by now, he was too surprised to answer Phil’s question. Instead, he asked <<You home why? Classes, none? Study, none?>>

Oops! He nearly signed <Work, none?> coming close to letting it slip he knew Phil would be at the grocery store. That wouldn’t seem stalker-y at all!

Phil gave him a measured look with those intense blue eyes of his which gave Clint the chills and the hots at the same time. It was as though he could see right through his bullshit and into his soul.

<College finish, I go work. Work flooded. Help out but bad> Keeping his eyebrows neutral to indicate he wasn’t asking a question, Phil finished with a shrug and <So… back home>

Clint gave him a once over. Now Phil had mentioned it, he noticed he was kinda… well, wet. He hadn’t realised until now.

<<Wet clothes you change?>>

Phil raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile. <Promise you not look?> he teased.

Clint gave him a filthy grin and another once-over, this time a lingering perusal from his head to his feet and back up to meet his gaze. <<No>>

Phil’s cheeks and the tips of his ears pinked under Clint’s scrutiny. He rolled his eyes at the burglar’s forwardness and his own infuriating blush reflex. However, unexpectedly to both of them, he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled the damp material up over his head. Clint’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, feeling the heat rise in his own face as his gaze was drawn to Phil’s naked chest. Not only had he filled out, there was a sexy as fuck covering of hair on it. And suddenly heat in his face wasn’t the only thing rising.

They stared at each other until Phil smirked - little shit - and turned his back on Clint to gather a change of clothes from the drawer. Clint continued to watch him taking note of the freckles sprinkled across his shoulders and arms, and the way the muscles danced across his back as he opened and closed the drawer. When he began to unfasten his jeans Clint figured he should look away before he did something dumb like finding out what it was like to suck Phil’s cock instead of just wondering about it. Oh man! He really had to think other thoughts.

“So…” His hearing aid squealed shrilly. Or maybe it was him. Aw, voice, no! He cleared his throat lowering his tone to a more reasonable timbre than the lust-filled squeak it had become. “You mentioned coffee? You got any or you just gonna tease me with that too?”

Phil huffed out a quiet laugh. “I got some. Sit down.”

Clint straddled the seat nearest him keeping his back to Phil although not before he caught a glance of his butt in tight black briefs. Holy shit! He’d grown into his chest but his ass was hella fine too. He licked his lips and rested his elbows on the back of the seat only looking up when Phil stood in his eye-line, clad in another pair of jeans and a t-shirt with Captain America’s shield on it. His feet (also kinda sexy) had been left bare.

Clint swallowed hoping it wasn’t a loud as it felt.

Unaware of Clint’s smutty thoughts, Phil asked <Your coffee, you want milk? You want sugar?>

He was careful to keep his face blank when he signed ‘sugar’. When he was learning ASL he asked the question while smiling and was mildly freaked out that he’d inadvertently told the teacher he was cute. The signs are similar but he found out the hard way more facial expression is used when telling someone they’re ‘cute’. Not so much when asking if they want sugar in their coffee.

That’s not to say Hawkeye wasn’t. He was. Very, in fact. Phil just didn’t want him to know he thought that. Not yet anyway.

In response, Clint screwed up his face and shook his head then rubbed his hands together enthusiastically which Phil figured was just him being excited about coffee. Then he grinned and nodded remembering the sign also meant caffeine. <<Caffeine. Caffeine. Caffeine>> Strong, black coffee it was then.

“Comfy chairs, man,” Clint said conversationally, trying but failing to sound innocent. Phil’s back was to him again so there wasn’t much point in his signing.

Phil looked over his shoulder in between spooning coffee into two of his new mugs so that Clint could see his face. “Thanks. They just appeared one day. Kinda like a few other things around here. But I guess you don’t know anything about that, huh?”

Clint scrunched up his nose in a grin. He didn’t pursue the subject not wanting to push his luck. As Phil made the coffee, he looked around the room again. His eyes landed on the framed Captain America poster on the wall above the bed. For some reason, it was the first time he’d noticed it. If it was a collector’s edition, it would probably be worth quite a bit. Not that he would take it. Well, not now anyway. Casing places he was in was an occupational hazard. Not that he got many invites to people’s homes but still.

Clint made grabby hands when Phil came towards him which made him smile. He held out a steaming mug for him to cradle and sat on the chair opposite. Phil’s smile widened as Clint inhaled deeply and hummed with pleasure before taking a huge gulp. It was only instant but it was good stuff. And strong. His one indulgence. Well, other than the occasional pizza.

He took a deep mouthful of his own and as he swallowed, he frowned when he caught sight of the object in front of him.

“What’s this?” he asked carefully, pointing at it.

Clint followed Phil’s gaze to the tablet. He shrugged and put his mug down to sign.

<<Electronic tablet. Laptop but small…>>

<I know what> Phil interrupted. <Here, why?>

He may just have met him but Clint was good at reading people and he could tell by the set of Phil’s jaw he was annoyed. He decided he didn’t like that look on him.

<<Mine>>

Phil raised a disbelieving eyebrow. <Really?>

Clint nodded crossing his heart. He remembered the note he’d been writing and pushed it across the table to him.

Phil’s hard gaze softened at the child-like gesture. He read the note while Clint nervously chewed his lip. When he finished, Phil tilted his head to the side and asked, “What sort of books?”

Clint flashed him a quick smile. “Crime, spy, fantasy, an’ horror stuff.”

Phil nodded. In a flat hand position, he placed the fingers of his dominant hand near his lips and, with a smile, moved it down towards Clint. <Thank you>

He hesitated then added, “Can I… Can I ask why?”

Clint ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck again. He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee peering at Phil over the rim of the mug.

“Felt shitty about the pizza.”

“I get that, and thanks for the replacement by the way. But… why the other stuff?” Maybe it was rude of him to ask but he was curious.

Clint looked at him with a challenge in his eyes. He put his mug on the table. <Window, why not fix?>

Phil cocked his head to the side. It was a fair question. And it’s not like he hadn’t wondered about it himself. He sat back in his seat taking a drink from his own mug to give himself time to think of a reasonable answer. “Maybe I liked the notes you left.”

Flicking the rim of his mug with his fingers, Clint rolled his eyes and snorted.

Phil put down his own coffee again. <What? Why annoyed?>

Clint shook his head and signed animatedly making occasional exasperated noises. <<School, not finish. Spelling shit. Read comic books. Not smart like you. Not because notes>>

He lost Phil. <Again. Sign slow please>

Clint took a calming breath. He wasn’t sure why he was pissed at him. He didn’t believe Phil was being deliberately hurtful but for some reason, his words still stung. He repeated what he said but slower as requested.

<Hey!   _I_ read Comic books> Phil pointed to his chest and The Cap’s shield. <Hope you not DC fan>

Clint stared at him before rolling his eyes. Again. He was surprised he hadn’t strained one yet. He raised his eyebrows as he asked, << _That_  worry you? School, not. Spelling, not. But  _comic books_! >>

With a mix of sign and hand spelling Phil told him, <Other things not bother me. DC over Marvel? Big problem. Big problem our relationship>

“Fucking nerd!” Clint muttered, trying hard not to laugh. Did he pick that up right though? Phil thought they had a relationship? What sort of relationship did he think they had?

“I prefer geek,” Phil retorted, glad Hawkeye had relaxed again. He hadn’t meant to upset him. But for the record, he genuinely  _did_  like the messages he left.

Okay, so he’d ignored the relationship comment. Not that they had one exactly but… Ah, hell! Who was he kidding? It’s not like he had anything to offer. He was a broke college student for whom the only things worth stealing in his room had been given to him by the person most likely to steal them. And when he thought about it, that was kinda fucked up!

“Dork!”

Phil didn’t answer. He really couldn’t argue the point. They sat for a moment not feeling the need to make conversation. It was nice. It was… good.

When they did speak, sometimes verbally, sometimes with sign, it was gentle and random. At least until Phil blurted out, “Didn’t fix the window… because I like you.”

Clint took a sip of his coffee to give himself a moment to think about that. Finding his mug empty, he put the mug down and replied. <Don’t know me>

<<Want to>> Phil returned with a hopeful half-smile.

<Why? Why want to?>

Phil looked lost. How did he tell Hawkeye that he’d been in New York for almost three years and his friends still didn’t know where he lived. It’s not that they didn’t know he was broke. He’d made that clear at the start, telling them he’d only really see them at college because he didn’t have money to go out with them at night. Even when he  _did_  have some free time.

They’d laughed good-naturedly and become friends anyway, accepting his reasoning. But they didn’t know _how_ broke. He knew they would pay for him; they’d offered many times but he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to owe them and he didn’t have anything to give them except his Mom’s cookies and that was pretty lame.

“Tell me,” Clint said surprisingly gently, pulling Phil from his thoughts.

Phil dropped his head forward for a moment. He realised he was being rude but he needed to gather himself. When he was ready to speak he raised his face again and looked directly at Clint who swallowed thickly at the intensity of his gaze.

“I don’t have anything, Hawkeye. You know that. You know what a shithole I live in. And you… you came back anyway. You ate my pizza [Clint flushed at that] but you felt bad about it and you came back with a whole pizza. A better pizza. And a note. And you kept coming back. With other stuff. With other notes. That tells me you’re a good person.”

“I’m a thief. And a liar. And a cheat,” Clint interrupted. He was completely taken aback at what Phil was telling him. At his honesty. At his openness. And it was freaking him the fuck out.

<You good person> Phil insisted.

Clint shook his head and abruptly stood from the table. <Thief. Liar. Cheat>

He headed for the window but Phil was faster and cut him off standing between it and him.

“I didn’t fix it because… I hoped I might meet you. I wanted to meet you. To say thank you. To tell you I liked your notes. To share my Mom’s banana loaf with you. To…” He shrugged miserably not knowing how to finish without sounding more pathetic and stepped back to let Clint go.

Clint walked towards his escape then reached out to grab a fistful of Phil’s t-shirt, the white star right in the middle.

“Dork,” he murmured and pulled him in for a kiss.


End file.
